Defying Gravity
by XandriaClay
Summary: X-men with different powers, a new mutant, several comic additions to the team, and a mission gone very wrong. Ch. 6 - A Forgotten Prayer
1. Explanation

Disclaimer: X-men characters aren't mine, and I am SO not making any money out of this. 

I was thinking while I was reading fan fic, what would happen if the x-men had different powers? What's it really like to be new kid at the mansion? A new mutant who DOESN'T have ten different powers and saves everyones lives several times. This is a MAJOR AU fic, I've switched all their gifts, Wolverine and Rogue are both at the mansion already, so's Hank 'cause I love him to bits, BUT Jean hasn't arrived..yet.  

Here are the alterations:

Scott - Telekinetic/telepathic. Since his power (in the movie at least) was stronger than Jeans, his abilities are stronger than Jean's were in the movie. Also, he codename's just Cyke, he's an old prankster, that'll be explained s'more later. 

Jean - Regenerative/healing capabilities. I thought this would kind've..go, since she's a doctor. She doesn't have Logan's claws, so I gave her a limited ability to heal others so she wouldn't be completely useless *g*

Ororo - Now called Shadowcat, she has the ability to phase (Kitty's old power) She was a thief in Cairo so phazing would help her.

Wolverine - Has Rogue's poison skin. The people who experimented on him before wanted to make him an untouchable fighting machine, so he still has the claws and the adamantium lined skeleton. 

Xavier - I left him the same. Just because.

Jubilee - Icegirl. She has Bobby's powers.

Bobby - Has Scott's optic blasts, but he can control them because he wasn't brain damaged. No glasses for Bobby! No codename as of yet.

Rogue - Power to control the weather. She's also sweet and innocent Rogue from the movies, with the added confidence of her new white streaks, not the badass gothic chick from the comics.

St.John - Jubilee's plasma

And that's all of them! so far anyway. Hope that makes some sense =0)

This is my first fic, so I'd really appreciate ANY feedback you'd care to send – be as blunt or harsh as you want, I need to learn.


	2. Westminster to Westchester

Feedback is better than chocolate, hint hint. Shameless plug I made my very own lil corner of the web for my story and it's got purdy pictures on it – http://www.angelfire.com/art2/xandriaclay =0)

Rated PG-13 because there's a few swear words and my new mutant's a little prejudiced against Americans, it might offend some people.

Disclaimer: The X-men aren't mine. 

I always wanted to be a rebel.

I always wanted to be one of those girls who didn't care what people thought of her, the one with the nose rings and tongue piercing, who did exactly the opposite of what her parents told her because they were strict and unfair and she wanted to party. I always wanted to defy conformity and challenge society's expectations.

But I never did. Why? I didn't have anything to rebel against. I didn't want my tongue pierced; I'm a chocoholic, it'd destroy my taste buds, I'd loose all pleasure in consuming the very substance that keeps me alive! My parents weren't strict, my mum was my best friend; I didn't want her to worry about me. I called her every few hours if I was out to tell her I hadn't yet been raped and pillaged, but that there were some promising looking construction workers up the road, and I'd call her later if she had a grandchild on the way. I was allowed to 'party' as long as I told 'em where I was. And defying conformity, well...the only conformity I witnessed in London, in a democratic nation, was fashion. And I like clothes (ones that aren't ripped and torn and hang off me like a sack of potatoes; I've got hips. I'll bloody well use 'em.) Society expected me to be polite, to respect my elders, to go to school and get good grades, all of which I planned to do anyway so there wasn't much point in challenging those views, now was there?

But now, I was rebelling. Hell, this was dramatic. They wanted to send me to some high society prep school for mutated youngsters? Let 'em. But I was gonna sit on the roof till they sent me home. Roof? 

Yup. Ya see, I've been blessed with the power to float aimlessly in the wind like an old paper bag, I imagine I could whip into peoples faces and toss myself against the walls of an alley if I put my mind to it. I'd spent two days lighter than air, being tossed around right over the Thames in the not-so-warm-but-warmer-than-regular-air currents as if caught in a rip tide before Xavier came to collect me. God knows how many times I flashed the unsuspecting public below - wearing a summer dress had been a baaad idea that day. Anyway, Xavier finally decided to show up, and told me how to get myself out of my predicament. The dude has some power in his bald lil head that allows him to speak directly into other people's minds. (I'm really more respectful to my elders, but I'm being rebellious now, remember?) He told me to think of weight, to imagine I was carrying barbells and strapped to huge sacks of sand or the like. I thought of being stuck in the Fat Bastard suit from Austin Powers, it worked. I was lucky enough to be floating over a bridge at the time, my dress would've become see through had I gotten drenched in the stinking, polluted river water.

Next I knew I was being flown out to America. Nope, not Disney, some place in New York. Not even the cool New York with the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, Xavier's was a mansion in Westchester.  Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Oh yeah, bub, gifted. As in horrendously mutated at birth to be born with the extraordinary powers to save the world! Or not. I dunno really, I haven't met any of the other pupils yet. It'd be cool though, eh?

My parents left the morning of Wednesday, August 5th after arriving only Tuesday at noon. We'd stayed in a hotel for the night because I refused to go in the mansion. I didn't want to stay there alone. I had no friends at Westchester, and hadn't been able to say goodbye to my old ones. I hadn't had time to say goodbye to extended family! I'd packed my clothes, and various miscellanies from my room, but no posters or furniture. My room was my room, I felt lost without a place to call my own. And apart from material items and people I'd probably keep in touch with through e-mail so the relationships wouldn't be lost, I was more worried about the fact that I'd never been away from my Mum for more than a fortnight. I'd spent two weeks in France with a friend and her family, but that was all! How could I be away from her until Christmas?! That possibility alone made me break down, I was crying so hard I thought I might be sick. I wanted my Mum; I had this weird ache inside. I couldn't go crying to Xavier when I needed a hug, he was too proper. He was a nice guy, I hate to admit because I DON'T want to live with him, but he had kind eyes and wanted to help me..

 I just couldn't imagine him comforting me when I cried.

The wind blew at me peacefully; it was hard to stay angry. Maybe I'd drop the facade, as I was alone, until they came to make me go to class, or just inside the house. It was easier to forget for a while and inhale the cool breeze and gaze at the moon: a dancing orb on a midnight blue backdrop of twinkling stars and endless sky. There was a lake not too far off, with a small dock and boathouse. The moon reflected off gently rippling water dreamily; it was almost surreal. This was definitely my favorite place at Westchester, and I hadn't even been inside yet!

A sudden cloud of fog swept over my romantic daydream and left me sitting in near-complete darkness on the cold tiles of the estate's roof. Overhead, I could hear a plane approaching; there was an airport nearby? The airports in London were on the outskirts of the town; the only planes I heard were tiny and far off. This one was quickly coming closer. I wished the fog would clear so I could see it - then suddenly my wish came true. 

It was almost like something from a nightmare. You're wondering around in pitch black darkness, your eyes searching for any sign of light and that monster, or axe murderer you know is stalking you, then you turn and it's eyes are glinting back at you, an inch from your nose. A gigantic plane, black with a pointed nose, was staring me in the face, like a great hornet waiting to sting. I hadn't heard the basketball court open to reveal the hidden hangar below it, yet this was the plane's destination. It was gently landing, and I watched it's decent. It looked like one of those fancy stealth planes they use in spy movies. I could hear the engines whirring and gradually winding down as the landing gear touched the hangar's base. The basketball court gently closed in after it, and in a matter of minutes, my romantic scene reappeared as if nothing had happened.

Guess there's more to Xavier's little institute that I thought..

~

Two hours after the plane, and four from when I'd first fled to the roof, I'd started once again to cry my eyes out. It was cold, and the calm wind that had been blowing before had turned harsh and bit at my exposed arms and face. I really would've gone inside, had it not been three a.m.  But I didn't know where my room was, or where my luggage had gone, and surely anyone who did know would be fast asleep. This assumption made me jump even more violently when a man's voice spoke from behind me.

"Were you planning on coming down anytime soon? I agree, it's nice up here, but it's getting colder by the second and there's a bed waiting for you in the house." 

I spun around on my bottom to face the intruder. I couldn't see his face well enough to tell what he looked like, but the moonlight reflecting off his body told me he was leaning casually against the chimney nearby. It seemed as if he'd been there awhile, but I hadn't heard him approach or sensed his presence. I couldn't even see a way for him to reach me without flying as I had. But then, considering where I was, that was quite possible." I thought everyone was asleep." I muttered, embarrassed, wiping at the tears on my cheeks. My mascara must be halfway down my neck by now.

"Well, I'm not." He replied. No shit, Sherlock. "You'll come down then?"

"I guess." 

He stood with a tired groan and came a few steps closer to where I sat, and offered his hand. "Can you get down the way you came up? Or do you need help?"

"I don't need help." I said, bloody Americans, they're all so arrogant. I stood, without his help, and faced him head on. He wasn't much taller than me! Haha, shrimp. He was broader though, and younger than I thought he'd be. Late twenties at the oldest. "How are you gonna get down? I'd be willing to give you a push."

He chuckled, bastard. "Cold makes me irritable too." That made me angry, I wasn't irritable! He was just being patronizing. "Go on down, I'll see you on the ground." And he nudged my back gently. 

Fighting the urge to smack him one, I gradually imagined myself lighter, half weightless and went to the roof's edge and peered down. Down...hard asphalt. About 4 stories up.. Christ! It was a long way down! My vision lurched and went blurry at the edges, the height seemed to double and my vision tunneled. I could feel my knees giving way beneath me and bile rising in my throat. My stomach did flip-flops. I felt like I was spinning, swaying gently forwards. I was going to fall! My hands refused to help me gain my balance and my heels were lifting off the tiles to tilt me precariously forward...the height tripled..my head spun madly...

Arms wrapped around my waist and spun me around; suddenly I was looking to a pair of startlingly blue eyes. I leant into the man supporting me because my legs were too shaky to hold me, even half weightless, and I gripped his shoulders.  I clutched at the blue cotton of his shirt. My stomach was still flipping like a pancake and my world was still tipping at odd angles. I could feel tremors running up and down my spine.

"Angela. Angela, you're okay. I've got you." Comforting words found their way into my ear and through my confused brain. "Look at me, you're okay, concentrate on my face." 

I pulled back a bit so I could focus on those eyes. They were slightly canted with visible eyelids. Icy blue and hard, they might've seemed emotionless, but his furrowed brow and the way he looked at me so intently proved otherwise. His irises were flicked with aquamarine at the edges, but a much deeper, royal blue in the center. Beautiful.

"Angela." His voice called me back to the present; I shook my head to refocus my eyes and looked at his whole face instead of just his eyes. 

Holy Jesus he was cute. 

"Hi." I squeaked. I could feel sweat appearing on my nose and upper lip, and under my arms. I hoped he put it down to my fear, not the fact that I was looking into the face of some Greek God or other, and being held in his arms. High cheekbones and dark brown hair that flopped slightly over his forehead, I was melting. "Thanks." 

"Sure, but we still have to get down, there isn't a doorway or anything - "

"Nuh - uh, no way, I can't, you just saw I can't." I was protesting before he could finish his sentence. He looked older and more authorative in a second, like a teacher, and placed a finger over my lips.

"I'll carry you down, okay? Just make yourself light, I can't carry the both of us."

Oh that hurt. He didn't mean it that way, but I was sensitive about my weight. Being 5'9 at seventeen did that to you. I wasn't fat but I was big, my arms were a little less that muscular, and I had a U of fat around my belly button that refused to be dieted off. Either way, I did as he asked and gripped his shoulders to keep from floating away. We were moving forwards..closer..closer..he stepped off the roof. "Oh shit. Oh shit." I chanted, sweating out of fear now. My hands were clammy and hot as I clenched onto his shirt.

"Angela, calm down." Voice terse, he chided me. I unclenched my fists a little, realizing I'd been pinching his skin. His arms circles my back and waist and he held me to him as he gently flew us down the side of the building. "You're fine, I've got you." His voice was soothing in my ear. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his voice, willing my heart to slow down a little. I liked the feel of being in his arms; I'd never had a boyfriend before. Just being held seemed nicer than kissing. A cool breeze cooled the perspiration on my nose and forehead. The night was peaceful. I felt a lot better; it was quite nice to have my feet dangling above the ground. I was usually too tall to do that.

Then I did the thing they ALWAYS tell you not to do -- I looked down. Curiosity killed the girl and I wanted to see how far we had to go. 

Too far.

"Oohh Goodd.." Jeez I sounded like a man when I warbled that, my voice went low and cracked. We were still at least two flights up. My heart rate raced again and my face went too hot to feel the night air. I started trying to crawl up him like a ladder or slippery slope, completely loosing the control of my body to panic.

"Hey! Hey now, I told ya not to do that." He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him, holding me tighter so he wouldn't drop me as I squirmed. 

I forced myself to breathe and stopped moving.

"We're almost there. Almost on the ground." He kept talking to me constantly and I focused on regulating my breathing. Down..down..the wind made my hair stir around my face.

I felt my feet touch the asphalt, toes first; we'd finally made it! Good, solid, ground, I wanted to kiss it. His arms unwrapped themselves and came to grasp my upper arms. "See, no problem. You okay?" He asked, bending slightly to look in my eyes. He was only about two inches taller than me. Aw..

"Yeah, yeah..I'm okay." I said, but my knees were wobbling and my stomach was still churning.

"Good." He smiled, but he looked exhausted and pale. "Let's go inside. Get you a room." He let go of my left arm and started to turn.

Then I puked all over his shirt.


	3. The New Girl

It was raining. And dark. It felt like being at home again. I always find rain calming and I concentrated on the sound of it hitting the windows to try and stop the tremors in my hands. Class had started just five minutes ago, my first in this strange little school. Ms. Munroe, a beautiful African lady with stark white hair and a slight accent had shown me to the room after everyone had already arrived. I'd smiled and tried not to look too uncomfortable, but it was hard with all those eyes staring at me, and I felt huge and clumsy next to such a petit woman. And just when I thought it couldn't have been any more awkward, my teacher turned out to be the guy I'd thrown the contents of my stomach all over last night. My face went hot and I started sweating, and not in a ladylike fashion. Naturally, I was seated in the front of the class so they could all burn holes in the back of my head with their stares. I know I'm overreacting, there are only about 12 other people in my class, but twelve's enough. 

Maths lessons could go one way or another, either you got a good teacher and it was fun (at least I find math fun sometimes) OR it could be tedious and mind numbing. This looked to be the former. Mr. Summers seemed to be a good teacher; he was smiling and wrote on the board at an angle instead of completely turning his back to us. He'd set us a few problems in the book and discovered that half the class has forgotten how to add fractions. 

"You can't add apples and pears and get an applepearifruit, just like you can't add fourths and fifths and get ninths." He was saying, coming around his large oak desk to prop himself up on its edge. He was wearing a dark blue shirt today, tucked neatly into khaki trousers, with a brown leather belt and shoes. "So, you throw the apple on the floor and stamp on it" He trod savagely on his imaginary apple " And you throw the banana on the floor and stamp on that too" He jumped around violently, crushing the poor make-believe banana into a pulp, "And you get the squishy pulpy junk from both and slap it all together and stir it up, and measure that." He concluded. I was giggling and so was the rest of the class. "In other words, you need a common denominator." 

Someone tapped my shoulder and a square of folded white paper tumbled down my chest and landed in my lap. It read 'New Girl' in messy writing on the front. My face went all hot again and I opened it, concealing it under my desk our of my teacher's view. 

            _What's ur name? Where u from? What's ur power? I'm Rogue, would you like to eat with @ lunch 2day? John thinks ur cute =0P Kitty says Hi too. W/B_

I grinned and flipped the paper over, smoothing it on my notebook to hide it, and started writing. Suddenly the paper was coming off the desk of its own accord, my pen pulled out of my hand and landed neatly in my pencil case, and the note floated up and over the heads of the students next to me, and straight into Mr. Summers' hand. My mouth hung open and he flipped the paper over and read the note quickly. 

"I'm sorry. This is Angela, our new student. And I'm sure she'd be glad if you'd show her around at lunch, Rogue, but I thought you'd learnt your lesson after last time. Pass them in Hank's class." 

"Sorry Mr. Summers." Rogue, I assumed, said in a Southern accent. I'd heard those on in the movies, she sounded like the wife of one of those old plantation owners. I looked over my shoulder at her; her voice hardly matched her looks. She wore all black, long silk gloves that went past her elbows and a low cut shirt that showed a little more than I'd ever dare to. Her hair was almost like mine though, dark brown and cut a few inches below her shoulders, but she had two white – blonde streaks framing her face. Strange. 

"And you're chewing! Spit it out." Summers chided, waving a blind arm in the direction of the bin. 

Rogue spat a wad of pink bubble gum into her glove and held it out to him, smiling wickedly. Summers rolled his eyes (oh so blue…swoon, haha) and his lips tightened in annoyance. I watched the gum; it was getting flatter, melding to the silk. Rogue screeched and pulled it off before it became permanently stuck, got up, and stomped over to the bin to throw it away. 

Summers grinned and wrinkled his nose at her. "Moving on." 

~

"So what do we have next?" I walked, trying to look everywhere and at everyone at the same time, with Rogue and Kitty on my left and Jubilee on my right, then Bobby and John leading the way. They kept turning and asking me questions while I was trying to talk to one of the girls and answer their questions as well. Kitty was smaller than Ms.Munroe, and Rogue was just a little bigger. I took an immediate liking to Jubilee because she was almost as tall as me, and not a skinny as the other two. She stopped me from feeling like the giant of the group. Bobby and John were both taller than me, both slim and showing signs that they worked out quite regularly. I thought John was cuter than Bobby and he was quieter too. I could tell already they were best friends, Bobby seemed to bring John out of his shell, and John seemed to keep Bobby in line when he needed it. They were also flirting incessantly and had dubbed me 'British Chick'; I was rather flattered. My accent was a source of much entertainment for them; I'd had to repeat myself several times just so they could giggle over it. I kind of liked the attention.

"We've got English, then Biology –" 

"Oh shit, Kitty can I copy your homework?" Bobby turned and pleaded. Kitty rolled her eyes and dug a spiral notebook out of her bag. 

"Then it's lunch." Rogue finished, she seemed to have appointed herself my official welcomer and guide. It was nice, I could see myself fitting in here eventually. They were a group that stuck together through everything because they all have the X gene, and since I did too I'd been welcomed in like a long lost sister. 

"Ugh..Biology. I have issues with science.." I groaned. 

"You'll like it. Hank's a good teacher " Said Kitty, " I mean the actual science stuff gets icky, but he likes discussion more. Our level science is boring to him, he prefers to discus the issues."

"Sounds cool." I said, debate was always fun. "What's after lunch?"

"Individual training, and History." Rogue answered, "Do you know who you'll be training with yet?" 

"Nope." 

"We'll ask at lunch. When'd you get here?" 

"Last night." Then I remembered about the underground hangar, "Why's there a plane under this place?"

Rogue giggled and Bobby and John turned around to us, "That's the Blackbird." 

"Oh well, that clears it all up." I said.

"The X-men's plane." John clarified.

"Still clueless here." The X-men sounded like some kind of superhero group, right up there with Spiderman and the Incredible Hulk. 

"Our teachers double as this mutant crime fighting team, called the X-men. They go on missions in the Blackbird." Bobby explained. I laughed because it couldn't be true, even if I HAD seen the plane.

"It's true! Mr. Summers is the field leader; he flies the thing and plans all the missions and everything, then Ms. Munroe and Wolverine and Hank are on the team too." Said Kitty. 

"Then how can they be teachers too? They'd get hurt too much or be on missions all the time." Teachers don't double as superheroes, at least not in the real world.

"Most of the missions are just to recruit new students; their powers manifest and they get hurt or hurt someone else and the X-men have to go save 'em. Then there's the Brotherhood, who are mutants too but they hate mankind and like to cause trouble. They come in limping sometimes, or especially irritable after a late night, but they don't get hurt too much to teach us. And they only go on a few missions a week." Rogue explained. 

"So my teachers are superheroes."

"Exactly." Said Jubilee. 

~ 

Professor Xavier and Hank McCoy alternated teaching our English class, but today, while Hank was busy in his lab; the Professor was away on business, leaving us with no teacher. Ms. Munroe popped her head through the door and said she couldn't find us a substitute, and to work on whatever we wanted. Free period. She warned that she could hear us through the wall and to behave. Bobby whooped loudly because he hadn't done his English homework either, and grabbed for Kitty's English book so he could copy. I borrowed Rogues and read over what they'd been learning. I knew about half, and the rest I was mildly familiar with. I was relieved I wasn't miles behind everyone else. 

By the end of the period, Kitty, Rogue and Jubilee knew everything there was to know about my school, London, and had listened to me say 'tomato' and 'garage' more times than I cared to remember. I'd asked them more about the X-men, and what they did at the school outside of lessons. The first Friday of every month they bribed Mr. Summers with cookies for a ride to the movies, and sometimes Ms. Munroe would take them to the mall, or Xavier would let them get a cab. But there was also plenty to entertain us at the mansion itself. There were stables! I wanted to go riding at my earliest opportunity. The boathouse by the lake held a few single shells and a speedboat, I wouldn't have to give up rowing after all! They told me stories about what it was like to live with their teachers too.

"Oh god, remember that Christmas a couple years ago?" Kitty asked the group

"With the lights?" Rogue asked, laughing at the memory. Kitty nodded, giggling, and Jubilee turned to me to take up the story.

"Mr. Summers has this major thing with Christmas, and he HAS to decorate the entire mansion with fairy lights. It's like an obsessive-compulsive disorder or something. Anyway, it was before he'd learnt to carry himself telekinetically, so Hank had to carry him up there, and Hank got sick of doing it. Summers got all control freakish and pissed everyone off because he had to have the lights in specific patterns and lines, and use specific colours for specific places, and Hank got really mad at being bossed around, and picked him up and launched him onto the roof – he's got super strength – and left him up there for half the night until the Professor ordered him to get him down."

We were all giggling by the time Jubilee finished, partially because the thought of Mr. Summers being hurled onto the top of the mansion was funny, and also because Jubilee told it so well, she mimed the actions and laughed along as she told it. 

"And it was snowing too, remember? He got a cold and sneezed and made eggnog come out of his nose." Kitty giggled.

~

"So the question is, which solution benefits the greater good?"

Hank McCoy was huge. His body resembled that of an ape, though his arms were slightly shorter and he walked upright. He was an odd mixture of body building champion and geek scientist; his body was solid muscle, his shoulders were broad and thick and I could easily tell how he could of thrown a fully grown man onto the roof, but he wore silly little round wire glasses and he had a Mr. Rogers cardigan on under his white doctors coat. He led the debate on stem cell research with a passion none of my other science teachers had ever exhibited. 

"Should thousands of children be made to suffer for the sake of the merely potential life worth of a five day old cluster of cells? Or does the research that has already been completed show that more good will comes out of other means? I'd like a paper on your views on my desk by next week."

~

The dining hall was set up a lot like my old school, but on a much smaller scale. I noticed that the youngest kids there were about thirteen, and there were a lot less of them than there were of us older guys. There were just five tables that ran from the back of the hall to just over halfway. They had circular metal seats that were attached to the table at the bottom; about 20 ran on each side of the table. At the far end of the hall was another table of drinks, and then a large opening that stood about four feet off the ground and opened into the kitchen. We lined up in front of it to be served our food. There were only two cooks, a big, muscular man with stubble all over his chin and big beefy hands, and an older woman who smiled as she served us and took more care with there she put the food on the plate than the guy.

"Do you want pizza? Or a baked potato?" Rogue asked me, taking her own plate of pizza and fries and smattering it generously with ketchup. 

"Pizza please." I said, and was handed a plate like Rogue's, minus the sauce. My old school only had pizza twice a month, it was square, and it was horrible and soggy, with watery tomato sauce. This was the proper triangular shape, overflowing with two different kinds of cheese and thick red sauce. 

Kitty and Jubilee were leading the way to a table when Rogue stopped and grabbed my arm.

"Hold on, we'll ask Mr. Summers who your I.T. teacher is." She said, pulling my back towards the serving line and through a door in the corner. The kitchen was to the right, it was huge and everything in it was stainless steel, and to the left was another door. Rogue knocked a few times and waited, both of us still holding our rapidly cooling lunches. A man who, in my opinion, looked like he should never be left alone around children opened the door. He looked hard, and rugged in his worn leather jacket and motorcycle boots. He smelled of tobacco and his side burns were way too long to be fashionable but looked good on him, and he handed shaved in a few days. He his hands were also covered in leather gloves, in fact, I couldn't see a patch of bare skin on him apart from his face. He nodded to Rogue in a busy kind of way, but he wasn't unpleasant.

"Hey sugar!" She greeted, warmly, in her Southern Belle accent, "We need to speak to Mr. Summers."

The corners of his mouth tipped up a little and he turned around and yelled 'Scooter!' into the room behind him. I giggled at the name and he looked back down at me, his eyes were crinkled, he seemed amused. Maybe he wasn't such a vagrant after all.

Mr. Summers appeared at the door giving the other guy a glare for the name, and then looked at us expectantly as the man pushed past him to go back into the room. 

"Angi needs to know who her Independent Training teacher is." Rogue explained. He seemed preoccupied too, there was obviously something going on in the room.

"Me. After last night we thought it best." Rogue stared at me; he couldn't have made it sound any worse if he'd tried. Mr. Summers struggled to hold back a grin; he knew what he said.  "I'll meet you on the basketball court." He said to me.

"Thanks." I said, my face getting hotter. 

"Thanks Mr. Summers." Rogue smiled, and then pulled me back into the dining hall. "After last night?" 


	4. A Lonely Giant Joined

Thanks to Sharon, Min, Jason Jones, XT and Tarch for the info on Jean's residency, and to Jen, dingotheque, storm13, Neva, Alexandra, Corey and JP for the reviews =0) Makes me feel all warm a bubbly inside. Umm..what else..it'll be up on the site with pretty pictures probably tomorrow, and I _still_ don't own the X-men, and I still have no money. So there. Onward ho..

Ch. 3 – A Lonely Giant Joined

I was not looking forward to Individual Training. I became such a flushing, self conscious, shaky little idiot around Mr. Summers. He was cute, he was sarcastic, and I puked all over his shirt! God, how utterly disgusting. He probably thought of me like an ugly fat cow who went around burping and farting and vomiting, it didn't help I'm virtually as tall as he is. And what's more, I was scared of my power now. I had a nightmare about coming down off that damn roof, I went the wrong way and floated off into the stratosphere, and no one could get me down. I'd mastered how to keep myself on the ground, but I was scared if I let that go for just a second I'd be gone, like a helium balloon. 

Rogue and Kitty said they'd meet me to go to our next lesson together; they both had I.T. in the gym, lucky sods. I still didn't know what their powers were, but I could be sure they were more useful than mine. 

He was waiting for me on the court; he had his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants and was idly rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. I think he was singing to himself quietly, but I couldn't hear properly above the wind. His hands came out and he turned towards me when he saw me coming towards him. Oh. That smile.

"I thought we'd try to go back on the roof." He said. 

My stomach dropped like a brick off the mansion; did he seriously want to loose another of his shirts to a vicious attack from my lunch? I shook my head until I could find my voice again "Take some No, add it to some more No, mix all that up in a big pile of No and pour it all over your shirt so it looks like something from last night."

"What do you do when you fall off a horse?" He asked.

"Run away and never, ever get back on. Ever." 

"Alright. We'll save the roof for a later occasion." He relented, and I sighed with relief. "I was talking to Professor Xavier last night, he thinks you might be able to extend your power to other things."

"Huh?"  
  


He laughed, "Like, you could make something else as weightless as you can make yourself. He's not positive, but it can't hurt to try."

"So I could lift boulders like an Amazon woman? Cars? How 'bout houses?"  
  


"Not houses, the foundation would be too deep. But yeah, cars, boulders if we can find any." He rubbed his neck and surveyed the area, looking for boulders apparently. 

"What if it doesn't work and I go floating off to the horizon again? I think maybe we should just teach me to stay permanently grounded." 

"You'll never learn like that! C'mon, we'll find something small. I won't let you go flying."

"You said you couldn't lift the both of us, what if I go too high?"

"You've stayed on the ground this long."  
  


"Yeah, but that's just because I've stayed my full weight. I don't trust myself to let it go even a little." 

He came over and placed his hands on my shoulders, his nose just inches from mine. My heart started pounding louder, throbbing in my ears. "I won't let you go. Okay? I promise." He looked me straight in the eye trying to convince me I was safe with him. But I remembered how haggard he'd looked after carrying me down last night, there was no way he could go very high for very long. I could be lost forever. 

"No." I pulled away from him. His shoulders dropped and he looked disappointed. As if it hurt him I couldn't trust him. Still, I wasn't doing any weightless tricks today. No way, no how.

"You might as well go then." I wished he'd just yell at me, the look on his face was far more guilt inducing than any lecture. I spun on my heel and left, towards the pebble driveway and mansion entrance. 

I was on the second step when I heard a car's engine revving, louder and louder. The tires screeched and I thought it must be the rugged guy from the staff room zooming off for a keg or something. But then I heard a yell, and the car screeching to a halt, and a thud. I spun around to see Mr. Summers trapped under the front wheels of a monstrous four-wheel drive. He was telekinetic, yes, but could he act fast enough to stop the thing from riding him into the ground? I didn't know. I'd never ran faster than when I sprinted down the drive to my teacher. He was unconscious, and the wheel pinned him to the hard ground in such a place he couldn't possibly be breathing. 

"Help! Somebody help!" I yelled as loud as I could, pushing my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse. It felt weak and slow, and he was still out cold. 

"Help me! Help!" I screamed, but no one came. The driver was nowhere to be seen, he'd done a runner. The truck was gradually sinking deeper, crushing Mr. Summers slowly, agonizingly. It was up to me. 

"Alright. I can lift this thing. Sure." I murmured to myself. 

The front bumper was metal, the edge cut into my fingers as I tried to life it upwards. Nothing happened. He was getting paler; I could see the colour draining from his features. He didn't stir. I heaved again, but still nothing happened. Professor Xavier was wrong, and his colleague was going to die for it. I tired once more; imagining the feeling I got when I went weightless was flowing through my fingers into that cold, evil metal. I saw in my mind the truck lifting upwards and myself pushing it away, far over to the other side of the drive. I opened my eyes and the truck was floating a foot off Mr. Summers' chest, and he was laughing, crawling out from under it and brushing the dirt off his bottom. I gaped, still holding the 4X4 aloft. 

"You can put it down now." He grinned. I dropped it, a ton of metal landed heavily on the ground. "Told ya you could do it." He said, patting my back. 

"I've a good mind to pick it up again and _swing it into your head!_" I screeched, and stomped back up to the mansion. 

~

Tears blurred my vision and rolled down my cheeks, I was trying my hardest not to start bawling before I reached my room. How _could_ he? I thought he was dead! I thought he'd died because I couldn't get the truck off him in time. It would've been all my fault. I didn't think fast enough, I didn't _think_ to go call an ambulance! He could've died and it would have been all my fault. But it was all a prank, and stupid, stupid joke. He'd laughed. He'd laughed at me. I was once again made the fool in his eyes. 

I ran head first into a moving figure, too busy caught in my own thoughts to realise the blurry person before me. 

"Sorry" I sobbed, side stepping them to continue to my room.

"Hey! Hey, are you okay?" A woman's voice asked, holding my upper arms gently. I wiped my eyes and sniffed. I thought about nodding and moving on, but the temptation was too much. I shook my head and broke down completely. "Aw, hey now, sweetheart." She said, pulling me into her arms, "Come in here and talk." 

She led me into the library, and on to one of the overly stuffed brown leather couches. We sank into its cushions; I curled next to her and cried harder. She shushed me and stroked my head. 

"I'm sorry. This is silly." I said, regaining my composure. "It's just, this is my first day and I've never been so far away from home and they've all been so nice but it's weird, ya know? I feel so…_new_ and then he tried to get me to use my powers but I didn't want to so he ran himself over with a car and I thought he died but he didn't and he laughed at me again and – grr!" I screamed furiously, sobbing again. She chuckled and pulled me back under her arm and held me tightly. 

I pulled away again, "Who _are _you?" I said, wiping my face on the back of my hands.

"Jean Grey" She laughed, extending a hand out towards me. "And you are?"  
  


"Angela White." I said, taking her hand and shaking it. 

She smiled at me warmly. "So this is your first day?"  
  
I nodded. "Yeah. And it was going well until now."

She laughed, "Well it's my first day too, I guess we should stick together."  
  


"Really? What are you here for?" She was way too old to be a student.

"I'll be your resident doctor and geneticist from now on." She grinned, proudly.

"Did you just leave med school or something?" I asked; she must be smart to be studying genetics. She was pretty too. Her long, dark red hair fell past her shoulders, and she had high cheekbones and beautiful brown eyes. I couldn't be jealous though; she was nice without being annoying.

"I went through med school, then two years of residency." She explained. 

"How many years does med school take?" I asked, suddenly curious. 

"Four years, four years of university before that." 

"Jeez, is it as hard as they say?"  
  


"Hardest thing I've ever done." She said, proud again. "I'm glad I did it though, it's the only thing I've ever wanted to do."

"Cool. Have you met all the other teachers yet?" 

"Hank, and Professor Xavier of course. And Ororo, but no one else. Should I be scared?"  
  


"Yeah, terrified." I grinned. She pushed my shoulder and stood up. 

"So where's this guy who ran himself over? Were you in his class?"  
  


"I don't know where he is, and I _was_ the class. One on one individual training." I said, standing up too. She was taller than me! I loved her already, we had the same build, same shaped face, same length hair; she was like a long lost sister. I was grinning like an idiot and she laughed at me.

"What?"

"You're tall."  
  


"So are you." She said, patting my head. 

"Exactly, now there are two giants on campus."

"Hear us roar!" Jean laughed, pulling me back out into the hall. 

~

Please, please, please review, it's the only way I know if I should continue or not. 


	5. One Last Breath

Okie peoples, getting into a little bit darker stuff at the end of this one – sensitive subject warning. More Logan, more Scott though =0) Thanks to Katherine, Neva, Dingotheque, WildWolvieGirl, and the two anonymous people for reviewing the last chapter, I wub you lol, I'm gonna go update the website with pictures, cuz I've got some of Scott that'll fit at the end (Don't wanna give anything away **g**) That's all for now, please review! 

"You go in first."  
  


"What?! You're the teacher!"  
  


"Please, I'm too embarrassed."  
  


"And I'm too blotchy. Just go in, sheesh, you're such a baby." 

Jean scowled and finally pushed open the door to the Staff Room and dragged me in behind her. It was empty.

"See, nothing to be afraid of, no one to bite you." I chided her, giggling.

"Darn." She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. I laughed and pushed her all the way inside. I'd only see a glimpse of the back wall when Rogue and I had come earlier, so I took my time in examining the room from top to bottom. The floor and skirting were all the same, regal dark oak as the rest of the mansion. The place boasted old money ownership and upper class residents. It was like visiting one of the old Victorian mansions in England, something straight out of a Jane Austin novel. The walls were painted pale yellow, and kitchen counters lined the wall next to the door. There was a sink, and a refrigerator, and a small stove and flat hob. All very modern, and clean. In the corner there was a stereo, and three tall stacks of CDs. Under the window that was opposite the door was a table, covered in a bright chequered cloth, surrounded by five plastic chairs.

"Looks like students are allowed to keep food in here." Jean remarked, her head in the fridge. Chocolate, chocolate and yet more chocolate occupied the shelves, all labelled with various pupils names: Scott, Kitty, Bobby, Ben, and Jason, my fellow chocoholics.

The door opened next to us and we both turned to stare at the newcomer. I glared and gave him the cold shoulder, I was very angry with my math teacher and wasn't about to let him think I wasn't. 

"Hi, um.." He mumbled and edged around Jean; I could hear his footsteps on the floor and Jean giggling quietly. "Angela, I'm really sorry. That was a stupid thing to do, I thought you'd find it funny, but it wasn't and I'm sorry. I couldn't think of another way to get you to use your powers. Sorry." He rambled, right behind me. He was quite cute really, all sheepish, like a puppy who had an accident on the carpet. I started giggling too and turned around to face him.

"Alright, you're forgiven." I said, trying not to laugh. I had visions of him cocking his leg in the corner. Bad Mr. Summers! I gave him and started laughing harder, then looked up to see his expression and turned from pleading to almost horrified, but amused at the same time. "Sorry, strange thoughts." I apologized.

"Yeah, you're projecting them."

"I'm what?" I asked. Projecting did not sound good.

"You're projecting your thoughts, it's hard not to pick them up." He explained, starting to grin himself. 

"Oh, God, you saw -?"

"Yep." He nodded, "bad puppy."  
  


"Oh holy Jesus." I hissed, running past him into Jean's awaiting arms. She was laughing, hard, and I thumped her arm. Mr. Summers was laughing too.

"I'm Jean." She said, extending a hand towards my Math teacher. The gruff guy from earlier entered, pushing the door open wide and striding through it, taking just one quick glance at the three of us before settling himself in a chair and lighting up a cigar.

"Scott. I take it you're our new resident doctor?" He said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently instead of shaking it.

"And geneticist." Jean nodded. 

"Finally, a doctor I wouldn't mind getting a physical from." The gruff man growled suggestively. Jean smiled and raised her eyebrows at him, looking him over. He seemed to lean back further to give her a better view of his well-built form.

"Jean, Logan. Logan, Jean." Mr. Summers introduced them, rolling his eyes. 

"Nice to meet you Logan, we'll have to see about that physical." Jean said. The flirt.

"Looking forward to it." Logan said, growling again. The man was half beast. I looked back to Mr. Summers, he looked jealous! His eyes flicked back to me and I realised I'd been projecting my thoughts again. I thought 'Sorry' at him, and he nodded in acceptance. 

"And what about you, Scott? Fancy a quick physical?" Jean asked, barely keeping a straight face.

"Anytime." Mr. Summers said, trying vainly to flirt back but not quite making it. His ears had gone a little redder than before, bless. I think he would have been more comfortable had one of his students not been in the room, hugging his crush nonetheless. 

"Well boys, must be going." Jean said, still holding me with her and dragging us both through the door and out of the room. Once out of hearing range she burst out laughing. "That was fun."

I laughed at her, "I don't know, Mr. Summers didn't seem to think so."  
  


"He's a cutie pie, a little young though." She grinned. 

"He's just as old as you are." I said, he must be 28 or so, and so must she.

"I'm 29. He's about 22, 23 at the most."  
  


"Nuh – uh. He's way older." I argued.

"No, believe me. He's young, look at his eyes." 

~

That night, I called my mum. I tried to stay angry with her for leaving me here, but all that flew out the window when I heard her voice over the phone. She missed me as much as I missed her, and said so several times. I told her all about the mansion and my classes, and my teachers. I left out the bit with the truck, I felt quite stupid for getting so worked up over it. I told her I was fine at dinner, sitting with Rogue and Jubilee and Kitty, how I was almost falling for both Bobby and John.

"Yeah, no it was so funny at dinner, I was listening to Rogue and Jubes talking and I looked up to see this guy, Bobby, was staring at me, so I asked him why and he said 'Just watched a beautiful British chick out of her natural habitat.' I mean, it's lame, but it made me laugh. British chick. They've both – Bobby and John – started calling me that now." 

After dinner though, I felt quite alone. They all had far more homework than I from classes I hadn't been to yet, and Jean had disappeared off the face of the earth, so I went alone to my room to leave them to study. My mum didn't need to hear that though, so I went on to tell her about the X-men.

"Anyway, I think the Individual Training is geared towards the X-men, they've only got three people on the team so far."  
  


"Angi, I don't think I want you getting involved with that, okay? Too dangerous for my girl." My mum said.

"Ha, I didn't even think about it. I don't want to be an X-woman mum, I don't do well with getting my ass kicked."  
  


"Promise me, I'm all worried now. I don't want them sending you off to some Friends of Humanity base and getting killed."

"They won't! I'd stamp my foot and say no very forcefully."  
  
We hung up after two hours; she'd stayed up until 3 a.m. to talk to me. I didn't register the time difference when I called, but she was five hours ahead of me. 

It was ten o'clock; everyone was in their rooms asleep. The hall outside my room was dark, no light shone under the door. I lay in my cold foreign bed, unable to sleep, it was too dark, and it felt too strange not having a hug goodnight from my mum. I tried to remind myself I was seventeen, I shouldn't need my mum anymore, but it didn't work. This place was strange and impersonal at night, weird shadows of what I _knew_ were trees danced in my window, but they looked eerily like bad spirits or axe murderers. The wind howled.

My tummy gurgled, I'd left my stash of chocolate in the Staff Room and I need some nibble on until I fell asleep. Everyone must be asleep by eleven; it was too quiet for them not to be. And if there was someone down there, the mansion was so big chances were I'd never see them. I decided to risk a midnight trip down to the ground floor in search of chocolate; I wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon.

I pulled on a pair of socks and an old baggy sweater over my pyjama bottoms and skinny strap t-shirt. I stubbed my toe on the edge of my suitcase as I felt my way to the door, and hissed obscenities at it in the darkness. The door creaked a little as I opened it, and tiptoed out onto the landing. My heart thudded in my chest, which was stupid because I wouldn't have gotten in trouble had I been found, but still, it was a strange house with strange people in it. 

The stairs were creepy in the dark; several groaned as trod on them and passed on to their neighbour. The stairs opened up to face the front door, the dining hall and staff room were there to my left, and the rec room was next to them. The library I'd met Jean in was on my right. I padded softly through the still hall, the ceiling high above me, the wind making the trees scrape against the long windows. I giggled; I'd always wanted to fly.  I'd always dreamt of doing a running leap and not touching the ground a second later in the dining hall at my old school. I was in an enclosed space, no worries of floating off into the nether regions of the sky. My walking sped up, the thump of my socked feet on the wooden floor growing louder, and leaped. The ground fell away and I stared down at it, flicking my head forward and making my legs follow to do a full front flip in mid-air. Then I landed as softly as I'd taken off, adrenaline pumping, and continued on to the staff room.

My Cadbury's Buttons were exactly where I'd left them; small little discs of milk chocolate hidden within a royal purple packet. I liked them chilled so they cracked when I bit into them. Grinning contentedly as I shut the fridge door, I popped a couple in my mouth and headed out, back into the hall. I threw one high into the air and jumped, floating, to catch it in my mouth. My power was finally fun!

I reached the staircase, but something made me stop. A faint sound of singing, and guitar floating in from the rec room, and I simply had to investigate. Dropping a few more buttons into my mouth, I frowned and tip toed gently over to the rec room door. Yes, someone was definitely singing in there, and accompanying themselves with a guitar. The singing stopped and I heard low talking; two people were in there! It must have been the time of night, or maybe the chocolate, that made me tentatively open the door and peek inside.

"We just walked around the lake, nothing happened. Believe me. We just talked."

"I don't know why ya jus' didn't press her up against a tree and –"

"Because I like her more than that! Besides, she doesn't feel the same."

"Cuz she's fallen for me, the manly one.

"Whatever. She's too good for either of us."

They were talking about Jean! I squeaked, and clamped a hand to my mouth. I saw Logan's ears prick up. Two pairs of eyes, one blue and young, the other dark brown roofed by bushy eyebrows turned to stare back at me. Logan had a guitar tucked under one arm and a beer resting on the couch's arm. Mr. Summers was wearing old faded jeans, and a black t-shirt. The air of authority was gone, and Jean was right, he _was _young. 

"What are you doing up?" Mr. Summers asked me, not angry, just curious.

"Couldn't sleep. Needed chocolate." I said, holding up the packet to show him.

"My kind of girl." He chuckled, "Care to join us?"

I was surprised at the invitation, but happy, so I went in and sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, next to my teacher.

"So, Mr. Summers – "

"You can call me Scott outside class." He interrupted

"Alright, Scott" I said in a mock American accent, "What are you two still doing up?"

"It's only midnight, kid." Logan said. I realized his voice was naturally low and rumbling, remotely resembling a growl.

"It's a school night, man." 

He snorted and took a swig of his beer. "We're having our nightly sing along."

I got visions of Logan on the Barney show, clapping and singing along with the big purple dinosaur, skipping around the outside jungle gym, leading a group of kids through the swings and down the slide. Scott snorted and coughed when he got a glare from Logan. Note to self: ask Scott how to stop projecting thoughts.

"I've fixed those couple bars, its D major then F sharp, distorted." Said Logan, strumming idly on his guitar. It was a beautiful instrument, a Levin Cello Guitar coloured in various shades of brown all swirling around the body. The 'F' holes rolled elegantly beside the strings. It showed signs of use though, like he'd had it for years, there were a few scratches and the frets were worn, but he'd taken great care of it. He started to play the opening riffs of a song, twiddling quickly; I watched his fingers move with fascination. Then Scott started to sing, in a voice that sounded like he had to _make_ it scratchy, that naturally it would be as pure as a boy soprano. He sang soulfully, pouring his heart into the words. I watched astounded.

Please come now I think I'm falling  
I'm holding to all I think is safe  
It seems I found the road to nowhere  
And I'm trying to escape  
I yelled back when I heard thunder  
But I'm down to one last breath  
And with it let me say  
Let me say  
  


_Hold me now  
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking  
That maybe six feet  
Ain't so far down  
  
_

_  
I'm looking down now that it's over  
Reflecting on all of my mistakes  
I thought I found the road to somewhere  
Somewhere in His grace  
I cried out heaven save me  
But I'm down to one last breath  
And with it let me say  
Let me say_

_  
_Logan bashed out the cords here, he'd need an electric guitar to pull it off properly. And Scott had his eyes screwed tight, waving a clenched fist in time with the beat, throwing the full power of his voice behind the lyrics.

_  
Hold me now  
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking  
That maybe six feet  
Ain't so far down  
  
  
Hold me now  
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking  
That maybe six feet  
Ain't so far down _

_Sad eyes follow me  
But I still believe there's something left for me  
So please come stay with me  
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me  
For you and me   
For you and me  
  
Hold me now  
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking…___

_  
Hold me now  
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking  
That maybe six feet  
Ain't so far down_

He repeated the chorus again, and Logan let the last note hold for a few seconds, then the mood lifted and it felt like the room itself sighed, Scott grinned and Logan smirked and took another swig of his beer. 

"Yeah, nice fix." Scott said to Logan.

I wondered which one had written the lyrics.

~

Logan left at about one a.m. and I was still wide eyed and jumpy, so Scott and I decided to put on a movie and settle ourselves down on the couches. I bagged the one across from the TV; he took the one perpendicular to me. We watched 'Swordfish' which I'd seen before, and I felt myself falling asleep just fifteen minutes into it.

Two years. Two years I'd lived with them. They were my sixth foster home in seven years, and I'd stayed with them the longest. The first I'd been happy with. They didn't hit me, they didn't yell or scream, they sent me to school with new clothes and money for lunch, hell, they even hugged me, told me how glad they were to have me there. 

_But no more, a three-day suspension was to end all that. A suspension I didn't deserve, that I'd gotten simply by sticking up for myself against a gang of five bigger guys. Two were knocked unconscious when they flew into the school's brick outer wall, two more had gotten concussions when the truck of those trees smacked them in the back of the head, the fifth ran to tell the authorities what a freak I was. _

_And now I was leaving this place of warmth and kindness, the only place I'd know like that since my parents died. They didn't want a mutant in their household; the suspension was their excuse. They didn't want a troublemaker, but that was a lie. I was to go back to the social services and get passed around the system again, home to home, family to family, beating to beating. It'd fuck up my education again, the files wouldn't get transferred properly and I'd be stuck a freshman for the next three years. Then I'd get kicked out of public education to become homeless because I didn't have any qualifications._

_I'd never meet a girl and fall in love, never make a family with her, never have that picture perfect house with the white picket fence. God, if these people could like me one day and spit on me the next, so could the rest of the world. I was a lost cause, meaningless, useless, a waste of space. Life isn't worth living if you don't mean anything to anyone. _

_The first cut hurt, it burned, but it felt oddly exhilarating. I watched in morbid fascination as my blood bubbled over my wrist and trickled down my arm. I made cut after cut, ignoring the pain, giggling manically to myself, then started on my other wrist. My head got light and I felt woozy, sick, I swallowed and leaned heavily back against the wall and watched my blood drain away. My vision went blurry…stars and spots flickered in front of my eyes…I welcomed the darkness…_

_Another home, another family, another beating taking place. They should've let me die because I'd rather be dead than take this again. His fists beat down upon me like a hailstorm, his boots kicked my sides, cracking my ribs, I couldn't breathe. I didn't want this anymore! Why didn't they just let me go? Why keep another worthless orphan on this earth? I choked, tears staining my face, I tried to fight back but he was so big, and so very angry, the pain was intense. Air was forcing its way out of my lungs with every brutal pounding, and not returning. Oh god, the pain…_

I gasped, choking on my own spit, wiping tears to clear my eyesight. That dream wasn't me, those memories weren't mine, and I hadn't experienced that pain. I didn't have scars on my wrists. I was shaking, and the tears on my eyelids shone in the light from the television. I worked to slow my breathing and stop the tremors; I'd never had such a dream. 

A muffled cry made me jump and remember the other person in the room. Scott was beating the cushions of the couch weakly, he was crying too, recoiling from invisible kicks and punches, he screamed but his voice was gone. I rolled clumsily off the couch and scrambled over the carpet to his side, another wave of pain washed over me, making me feel sick to my stomach. 

"Scott! Wake up, c'mon, please, wake up wake up wake up." I pleaded, sobbing at the same time. Another wash of agony, misery. He wouldn't awake.

"Scott! Please." I tapped his face, patted his cheeks, not wanting to slap him because he was already suffering. I shook his shoulders vainly, but he was too far-gone. His whimpers, the hitch in his breath, made my heart beak. It made me cry more. I grabbed one his wrists as it thrashed hopelessly, I tried to hold him down, maybe then he'd wake up. His forearms were large; a couldn't get my hand all the way around it, and tanned, masculine, but in this state he looked like a little boy, not the man he'd grown up to be. There were scars across his wrist, a few raised and lighter than the rest of his skin, a few more fainter. 

I'd gotten a glass of water before we put the movie on, and now I grabbed it and threw it in my teachers face. 

He sat up with a start, choking and gasping, shaking harder than I had been, still crying. He looked around wildly, coughing, wiping the water out of his eyes, and then he saw me.

"Angi?" Without warning he got up off the couch and started pacing around the rec room, rubbing and scraping the back of his neck, grasping at his face, hugging himself. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, God! I – Jesus Christ – I'm so sorry." He spluttered. Then he stopped and stared back to me, "How much did you see?"

"Enough." He'd stopped moving; the shoulders I thought were so broad and strong sagged, broken. 

"Only Xavier knows." He whispered, a shiver shaking his body. One more tear ran down his face and his breathe hitched twice, and I couldn't stand any more. I got up and wrapped him in my arms, pulling his head to my shoulder and stroking it, wrapping my other arm around his shoulders. He tensed, dead, then sagged against me, letting me comfort him. 

"Shhhh..shhhhh" I whispered in his ear, rocking gently, "You're safe now."

Please please please review! The song is Creed, One Last Breath


	6. Crush

I'm back. *g* SO sorry this was so long in coming, and it's not a great chapter anyway. RL got in the way, a lot. At least I'm not that happy with it. I think I might be straying too far in to the teen angst thing, or even, god forbid, the mary-sue trap. Let me know what you think! Thanks to Doublekidz, Toto, Leap of Fate for reviewing! Special thanks to Dingotheque, Neva and Katherine for reviewing again. Mega huge thanks to Frost who betaed the first part for me. Please review.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I won't tell. I'll never tell." I promised, looking him straight in the eye. His secrets were something I'd cherish till the day I died, and Scott needed to know that. "They're not my stories to tell." He hadn't told me everything, anyway; I desperately wanted to ask questions that I knew he wouldn't answer. He'd glossed over the death of his parents and the seven foster homes as if he were reading a shopping list, and he wouldn't tell me how he survived on the streets for six months until Xavier found him.  
  
"There are some things no one needs to know. I don't want to be the one to break your innocence." He'd said, "Bad people don't deserve to be remembered."  
  
"So they're dead?" I'd asked, wishing I had his telepathy so I could delve into his mind and be satisfied. Morbid curiosity.  
  
"Some." But he wouldn't say who, or how they died.  
  
We were in the staff kitchen. The sun had just risen spectacularly over the horizon, colouring the sky in coral pinks and indigo blues. The sunlight streamed in through the window, through the pale yellow blinds that covered half the glass, dancing off the glasses and bowls that lined the counter on which I sat. I played with Scott's hand absently, kneading his fingers and running my thumbs over his palm. He searched my face, still not trusting me. His eyes were gray now, like cloudy skies and Mondays. I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I've got hair on my upper lip and I've never been kissed."  
  
"What?!" Scott choked, bemused, pulling away so were we face to face again.  
  
"Two of my deepest, darkest secrets. We're even now." I said. True, his past was something deeper and darker than anything I'd ever experienced-- than anything I'd probably ever experience. But my mustache and lack of love life were something I'd hidden from all my friends, and shared only with my mother up till now. It was proportional, if not equal. I ran fingers along the lines of his palm, love line, life line, down over the veins in his wrist. Over the scars. "Do you do that anymore?"  
  
"No." He watched my fingers trail along the raised lines that were light against his tanned skin. They criss-crossed like a road map over his forearm to the tender skin on the inside of his elbow.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Why have you never been kissed?"  
  
I laughed; all he had to do was look at me to know why. "Never had a boyfriend. Never known a guy to even like me like that."  
  
"What, a beautiful girl like you? I thought you'd be fighting them off with sticks." He grinned, pulling his wrist out of my hand and bracing himself on the counter, hands either side of my thighs.  
  
"Yeah, right." Standard reply all adults had to give. "I think they're the ones fighting me off with sticks." I tried to make light of it, but it hurt. I couldn't refuse to talk about it though, after what he'd shared.  
  
He grabbed a banana and peeled it, dragging down the rubbery yellow and brown skin. He took a bite, holding it in one side of his mouth while he spoke. "You're crazy. If you were a few years older, I'd be all over you."  
  
I pushed his cheek over the bulge of the banana before he could stop me. The fruit exploded. It splattered out of his mouth, all over his chin and mouth, gooey and gross; like a pimple. He grinned and shook his head at me, chewing loudly with his mouth open on purpose so I got a full view of his food. I didn't see him peeling another one behind his back until the last second, when he mashed it into my face.  
  
"Oh! You bloody cow!" I screamed indignantly. This was war. I jumped off the counter straight onto his foot and wrestled him out of the way so I could get to the fridge. We were almost equally matched height-wise, though I wondered why he didn't just use his telekinesis. Bars of chocolate, cans of coke, salads, and yogurts sat happily on the shelves and I grabbed an unsuspecting pot of strawberry fromage to use as ammunition. I ripped off the foil lid and smacked it onto Scott's t-shirt; it stuck like a badge, turning his white shirt goopy shades of pink.  
  
"Haven't you ruined enough shirts of mine already?" He grimaced, peeling it off and flicking it in my direction.  
  
"Nope." I replied simply, lobbing a pot of yogurt at his head. It hit the mark and splattered all over his face and the kitchen cupboards behind him.  
  
He had a bottle of chocolate sauce. The top came flying at my head and I dodged it easily. He moved like a cat, and had me in a headlock before I could dart away. "Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, choco choco, chocolate!" He sang as he squirted it all over my hair and neck. I screamed, laughing for him to stop. He didn't until the bottle was empty. He let me go, giggling like a schoolboy, covered to the elbows with the brown syrup himself.  
  
"I hate you so much right now," I said, but I couldn't stop laughing. The stuff ran down my face, dripping off my nose onto my breasts.  
  
"But you look so gorgeous," He said, coming over to pile my hair on my head, playing hairdresser, making it stick up at odd angles. I gathered a load of the sticky brown sauce in my hands, and slapped it on his head, rubbing it like shampoo into his hair.  
  
"Oh, thanks." He said.  
  
"Sure, no problem." I grinned. Then he bent down slightly and kissed a trickle of the syrup off my cheek. And I melted. He'd kissed me. He'd kissed chocolate syrup off my cheek. In my own little teenage world, it was romantic. for a few seconds, at least.  
  
"I'll buy you some wax when I go to the store." He said, destroying the moment completely. I elbowed him in the stomach and went to the sink to try and clean myself up a little. He joined me and acted like a three year old playing with the soapsuds and making himself a beard out of the foamy bubbles.  
  
"Mature. Real mature."  
  
He responded by patting my nose with a foam-covered hand. "Do you like pancakes?" he asked me.  
  
"What kind?"  
  
"What do you mean 'what kind'? How many kinds are there?"  
  
"Well," I said, patronizing him, "There are crepes, the really thin ones, or there are the little fat ones. I don't like the little fat ones."  
  
"The little fat ones are pancakes, the others are crepes, smart ass." He retorted, flicking water at me. "I'll make crepes, then."  
  
"You do that." I'd cleaned my arms and face, but my hair was still matted with the stuff, and it covered my shirt. He was in much the same state, but his hair was shorter. It just looked like he'd used some especially bad hair gel that day.  
  
  
  
He whisked a mixture of flour and egg and milk, and he had a lump of butter melting in a pan on the stove. Forearms and shoulders must be the sexiest part on a man. And Scott had great arms. Tanned and muscled in just the right places, I was very grateful for his short-sleeved t-shirt. His upper arms didn't even wobble and he whipped the fork around the bowl, letting air into the batter. If only I were a few years older. I could live through Jean vicariously though: time for Angi to play matchmaker, methinks.  
  
He hummed quietly, a light tenor wavered with vibrato, and poured a ladle full of the crepe batter into a searing hot pan, already covered with butter. I knew the song he hummed and sang a line quietly, "Oh, think twice, its just another day for you and me in paradise -"  
  
He grinned, "Phil Collins."  
  
"My mum has all his albums, and everything from Genesis. It's the stuff I grew up on." He nodded and sang softly along with me, flipping a crepe high into the air. It landed perfectly back in the pan.  
  
"Real, or telekinetically?" I asked.  
  
"Little of both." He replied, flipping it onto a plate. "Without the TK it wouldn't land in the pan. What do you want on it?"  
  
"Lemon and sugar, please."  
  
He cut a lemon from the fruit bowl in half and squeezed it with one hand while he threw a handful of sugar under the spray. I thanked him and took a seat, with my pancake at the table while he started making himself one.  
  
"Have you and Logan ever recorded anything? That song last night was really good."  
  
"Thanks, and no we haven't. We're amateurs, it's just for fun. Why?"  
  
"Because I took Music Technology last year. We had a whole recording studio at my old school, if you wanted to record anything, I could help." The crepe was good; I loved the contrast between the lemon and the sugar. I wondered if Scott could cook anything else, that'd be a sure fire way to Jean's heart. Romantic dinner for two.  
  
"I'll let you know then, we could build our very own little studio down in the basement. We'd just need a mixing desks, we've got mics and an amp already."  
  
"You'd need a patch bay and a computer with some kind of mixer program on it, too, if you wanted to do it properly. They do have Porte - studios though. It's like a mini mixing desk that just records onto a cassette. The sound quality's not great though." I said, showing off.  
  
"Better start saving our cash, then." He grinned, "Or go shoot Xavier with the puppy dog eyes."  
  
"Yeah. Do you play any instruments, or just sing?" I asked.  
  
"I started on guitar, and piano when I was a kid. I mainly play the bass now, though. You?"  
  
"Piano. Since I was six or something." I answered. Scott could serenade Jean, and I'd play the piano accompaniment, and Logan could play the guitar. Yes, Jean would fall for him instantly.  
  
Speak of the devil.  
  
"Are those pancakes I smell?" Jean walked in, Scott perked up instantly.  
  
"Would you like some? There's plenty of batter left." He offered immediately. Jean walked over, clad in black and white boxer shorts and a long pink-checkered sleeping shirt, and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.  
  
"I'd love you forever if you made me a couple." She said, squeezing his shoulders and then taking a seat next to me. Her face was freshly scrubbed, her milky white complexion glowed in the sunlight, but he hair was a mess with no visible parting, hanging over her shoulders and in her face as if it had a life of it's own. Scott already had a pan hot on the oven and was covering its bottom with a layer of batter.  
  
"Hey darling, good night?" Jean greeted me, leaning over for a hug.  
  
"Yeah, good enough thanks, you?"  
  
"Strange in that big old bed. I need someone to keep me warm." She said, wrinkling her nose at me and indicating towards Scott with a nod of her head. Scott's shoulders had tensed up and his ears were going pink. Bless.  
  
"I'm sure you'll be able to find someone," I said, joining her in tormenting my Math teacher.  
  
"Maybe Logan -"  
  
"First one's ready." Scott interrupted loudly. I cracked up, resting my head on the table and stuffing a fist in my mouth. He was like a schoolboy with a crush.  
  
'Shut up!' Scott's telepathic voice hissed in my head.  
  
'You want to ho-ld her, you want to stro-ke her, you want to ki-ss her, you want to lo-ve her' I sang back, in true Miss Congeniality style.  
  
"Mmm, you're a very good cook, Scott." Jean complimented, biting into her crepe. Scott positively beamed and started making her another one.  
  
Logan came in then. "Careful children, I'm not putting a shirt on." He said, wearing blue jeans and a silver dog tag around his neck. The sight caught Jean's eye and Scott scowled, almost getting his crepe stuck to the ceiling.  
  
"You need to cover up before the kids come down. I don't want any accidents." Scott warned.  
  
"What, young girls walking headlong into walls because they're staring?" I asked. How could there be any accidents from Logan walking around with no shirt on? I mean, he did have a very nice body, bulky and muscular, with what my mother would think was the perfect amount of body hair - I didn't like hairy chests - but I didn't see how he could be a safety hazard.  
  
"Hardly." Scott snorted, "Sponge bob over there has the power to absorb people's life-forces."  
  
Snickt.  
  
"And these, too. Much more impressive, you should mention these first, Scooter." Three metal, shining claws protruded from the knuckles on both Logan's hands. He grinned proudly, making them glint in the sunlight. He tickled Scott lightly on the temple, making his chocolate covered hair stick on end. Scott swatted him away and flipped Jean's pancake onto a plate.  
  
~~  
  
I liked the Professor the second I walked into his office, which served as proof to me that first impressions weren't always reliable. He was wearing a suit, again, dark blue, pressed to perfection, with a soft cream shirt and silk tie. But he radiated warmth and compassion, and he was smiling faintly.  
  
"Angela, come in my dear." He greeted me. I shut the door behind me and sat in front of his desk on one of the antique wooden chairs there. "I apologize for not being here to greet you when you arrived. I trust you've settled in alright?"  
  
"Yes, thank you."  
  
"And your classes aren't too painful?"  
  
"No, they're fine, thank you."  
  
He flipped through some papers on his desk, "You're seventeen now, correct?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What are you plans after you leave school?" He stacked the papers neatly, and leant on his desk to watch me intently. As if he actually cared about what I was going to say.  
  
"I don't know really. University I guess."  
  
"Any thoughts on what you'd like to major in?"  
  
"English, maybe? Or Art? Media, maybe, I took Media Studies at my old school."  
  
"You're interested in that, then?" He asked, prodding me to keep going.  
  
"I think so. I wouldn't want to act, as a profession, too unstable, but I guess I could like, produce TV shows or design sets or costumes or something. I don't really know."  
  
"You've never thought about teaching?"  
  
Ah. I laughed, "What, teaching during the day and saving the world at night? No, my Mum would freak."  
  
He smiled, "Just so you know it's an option." His phone rang. He looked at me apologetically, "I'm sorry, I have to take this. We'll speak again."  
  
I nodded and got up, smiling goodbye, and left his office. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulders, pulling me to its owner.  
  
"How did you do, old chap? Was the old todger a bloody great wanker or a top bird?"  
  
It was Bobby, Bobby and his excruciatingly bad English accent. "A 'top bird' is a girl, you Pratt. He's a nice guy."  
  
"He's a nice old bloke, then, eh?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever." I grinned, still being dragged along under his arm.  
  
" So, what do you think of John?" He said, back in his normal voice.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"John, old chap, what do you think of him?" Back to British again.  
  
"He's.fine.why?" I wriggled out from under his arm and turned to face him head on.  
  
"Just wondering." He said, grinning.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing, I just wanted to know what you thought of him."  
  
"He's a nice enough guy, I barely know him though."  
  
"And if you got to know him?"  
  
"I don't know." This was getting embarrassing. "Why?"  
  
" 'Cause he thinks you're a top bird."  
  
I could feel my face getting red, and I couldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah. Right. Sure. I'm going to go . away from you, now." And I left, down the hall, up the stairs, into my room. John liked me? John liked me? John liked me?  
  
~~  
  
A knock came at my door just as I'd finished getting showered and dressed for my first class. Still brushing my wet hair, I opened the door to reveal Rogue, dressed still in her unusual way, wearing a black beret and knee- high boots.  
  
"Hey, what's up?" She greeted, walking right by me and jumping backwards onto my bed.  
  
"Nothing. You?"  
  
"I'm good. How are you liking it here so far?"  
  
"It's cool. It's different, you know? But I'll get used to it." I said, pulling my hair back into a low ponytail. I felt self conscious in front of Rogue, she was small, stylish, gorgeous, and I...wasn't.  
  
"And the guys?"  
  
"What about the guys?"  
  
"Well, who do you like?" She asked, looking up at me and raising her eyebrows.  
  
"I barely know any of them!" I exclaimed, laughing.  
  
"You've seen them though! Who are you attracted to?"  
  
I felt like a big, fat pedophile or something. "I don't know."  
  
"'Cause I know someone who thinks you invented sliced bread and peanut butter."  
  
"John?"  
  
She laughed, "How do you know that? And I thought I was revealing some huge secret. You just ruined all my fun."  
  
"Sorry." I giggled, sitting beside her on the bed.  
  
"Who told you?"  
  
"Bobby."  
  
"What a retard, I said I'd do it!"  
  
"You're all in on this together?" I started blushing again. Just the thought of them all talking about my love life and me was too much to handle.  
  
"He told us he liked you. It's our duty, as his friend, to see if you feel the same."  
  
"I guess he's okay looking. But I barely know him. Seriously. And I have very little experience with men. Like, very very little." Very little, as in, none at all.  
  
"Don't worry about it! He doesn't either. With women, I mean. I mean he doesn't have any experience with men either! Just."  
  
"I know what you mean." I laughed.  
  
"So if you got to know him better, you might consider."  
  
"Consider what?"  
  
"I don't know, going out with him or something?"  
  
"I might consider it."  
  
"Great! Thanks!" She screamed, jumping off my bed and leaving my room. Leaving me to panic on my own. What were they going to do? 


	7. A Forgotten Prayer

I've been away ages, I know. I bet no one even remembers reading this in the first place. I have excuses but I won't waste space =0) Anyway, the story actually begins! Yay! Please review, if only to yell at me for being a bad person for not writing this months ago.  
  
It was night, or thereabouts. Winter was drawing near and the days were getting shorter, so by seven o'clock, the sun was well below the horizon and Xavier's mansion had a serious lack of street lamps. I'd just showered. My hair was piled in a soppy mess on the top of my head and I'd changed into my favourite oversized pyjama pants - white, pink and wine striped - and a white shirt. I was the picture of a woman looking to vegetate for the evening, especially after the events of today's dinner.  
  
I'd decided that there was nothing more wholly embarrassing than being match -made. At dinner that evening Rogue, with a few not - so - subtle winks and kicks under the table had left John and I so sit opposite each other and smile painfully, choking on the thickness of the silence between us. It lasted 15 minutes. Well, 15 minutes and 26 seconds according to the giant grandfather clock in the corner. What had been cheap entertainment for my classmates, who'd giggled and stared at us for every excruciating second, was the making of the feeling that maybe I didn't want to stay in this mutant sanctuary a moment longer.  
  
I settled down on my unfamiliar bed with a book and prepared to loose myself in its contents. I needed time for my humiliation to subside. At eleven, I threw my book across the floor and clambered under the covers prepared to fall asleep, but lay awake thinking. If John really liked me, why would he be so shy around me? Why wouldn't he try and make small talk or something? Maybe this was just some sick joke they all cooked up. Do Americans hate the rest of the world like the rest of the world hates them? They'd already taken the rip out of my accent and the lack of the sun's graces on my skin. I'd thought it was just some harmless fun, was I wrong? What kind of guy would like me anyway? A knock on the door disrupted my musings, and I contemplated ignoring it. But that wouldn't be polite, and certainly wouldn't do anything for my reputation if they didn't like me.  
  
It was Jubilee, and I was glad. She'd been the most forgiving of my looks and voice, and had tried to stop the giggling and the pointing at dinner. And she was almost as tall as I.  
  
"C'mon. Grab a couple sweaters and your sneakers." She demanded, without so much as a 'hi' by way of greeting.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Just c'mon!" She said, stalking into my room and rummaging in my closet, pulling out my old chunky cardigan, a scarf, and Sketchers. She threw the shoes and me along with a pair of socks that bounced off my head because I can't catch. "Put them on."  
  
"What are we doing? Where are we going?"  
  
"You'll see! Just c'mon already!" She said, snapping her bubble gum impatiently at me. I pulled on the shoes after my socks and tucked the laces in to save time. She threw me the cardigan and scarf and pulled my wrist so I had to dress while walking.  
  
"This better not be some kind of initiation or anything. I'm not doing anything naked, or anything involving weird combinations of food."  
  
"It's not an initiation. It's a tradition."  
  
"That doesn't sound any better!"  
  
"And it's got nothing to do with you."  
  
"Oh." I dropped it, figuring I'd find out soon enough, and followed her silently.  
  
It was freezing outside and I started shivering immediately. It was a cloudless sky and a cold breeze blew, it felt peaceful and serene, and the mansion was far enough from the rest of the world for the city lights not to poison the sky. Billions of stars blinked back me and I stared up at them, letting Jubilee guide me blindly by the wrist. We stumbled through the garden. Or rather Jubilee marched and I stumbled behind, gaping up at the sky like an idiot. Black, towering hedges arranged themselves in perfect parallel lines, and then turned and turned again at 90 degree angles in what must have been a maze. Then finally the path stopped and revealed a small enclosure of grass and a white gazebo. Xavier's place was so English I almost felt at home. Every manor or stately home I'd ever visited had a maze with something secret and hidden in the middle. Jubilee dragged me up the steps where, gathered in a circle, were Rogue, Kitty, Bobby and John. They'd left space enough to fit the both of us, John on one side and Kitty on the other. Guess where I was made to sit.  
  
A wavering yellow glow danced across all our faces, emitted from a small fire in the middle of the floor, courtesy of Kitty I guessed. It provided some warmth but I still shivered into my cardigan and wrapped the scarf closer. Most of the others had sleeping bags and blankets, or were sharing with someone else.  
  
"The team just left on a mission." John told me, "It's our tradition to come out here and pray and stuff until they get back."  
  
"Oh right." I nodded. Inside was beating myself over the head hoping I'd fall into unconsciousness. I should've guessed this was a religious school. I was sitting in a gazebo full of bible bashers. It would be a cool idea, to wait up for our mentors to return, if it weren't for the Godly worship.  
  
"Everyone join hands." Rogue commanded. So we did, John gripping my fingers a little more enthusiastically then I thought necessary. Still, his hands were warm.  
  
"Dear -" She began, and then stopped, looking for a name.  
  
"God?" I asked  
  
"Not all of us believe in him." She shook her head. I calmed inside. Maybe they weren't about to turn Jehovah's Witness on me.  
  
"Gods and Goddesses" Kitty suggested.  
  
"Mother Earth and her Minions" Said Bobby, grinning  
  
"Thing Above." Said Jubilee.  
  
"Dear Thing Above" Rogue said, "We pray to you to look out for our -" She stopped again.  
  
"Mentors." I said.  
  
"Friends, heroes, teachers" John said.  
  
"Dear Thing Above, we pray to you to look out for our friends, teachers, mentors and heroes on their perilous mission. We pray that you bring them back to us safely, in good health and spirits." Rogue indicated to Kitty to continue.  
  
"I pray to Mother Nature for Storm, may her will stay strong and may you never become angry at her for fucking with your plans." She turned to Jubilee.  
  
"I pray for Wolverine. May his claws never be dented, may he never become rusty or tarnished, and give him the presence of mind to stay the tough bad ass he's always been." And then she turned to me.  
  
I smiled shakily, suddenly embarrassed. I'd pray for Jean instead of Scott, I didn't want anyone catching on that I had a crush on him. "I pray for Jean. May she always be able to help those who need her, and keep her from harm." I shrugged and passed the attention on to John. "I pray for Warren." Warren? I hadn't come across him yet. " May his wings never break, malt, or become ruffled. May he always be able to carry himself and others to safety." He passed the buck to Bobby.  
  
"I pray for our saviour Professor X. May his bald little head always be shiny and able to guide our X-men wherever they need to be, and for him to keep searching out us juvenile delinquents and doing the work he does."  
  
Before Rogue could finish our prayers, we heard the jet overhead and scrambled off our arses to stand on the grass around the gazebo to pick it out in the sky. I felt a happy wash of relief flood me as I saw the giant black machine swoop low over our heads to the tennis courts. We ran yelling back through the maze, greeting their return with screams into the night, only to find we were too late to see the harrier and the basketball court was already closing.  
  
They stopped with frowns. "They usually leave it open and yell up to us." Jubilee said.  
There was a lift down to the basement that we could access easily because it only housed a colony of small offices, storage rooms and places the teachers retreated to when they got sick of us. But the lift down to the subbasement required a password and a retinal scan, and I didn't 'know what was hidden down there. So we waited in the basement, littering the entrance to the lift with our many limbs. John had worked his way to my side, but at the time I really didn't mind. I'd been paranoid thinking it was a joke, and he was kind've cute. I couldn't rule out a relationship with him until I knew him better.  
  
I looked at my watch - 2am, and still no sign of the world below. Kitty and Rogue were asleep using Bobby was a pillow, and he was staring pensively up at the ceiling. Jubilee was lying on my thigh, dosing for short periods and then staring blankly at the oak skirted walls. I'd found myself brushing against John's shoulder, and in my tiredness I sank down and rested my head against his shoulder, careful not to disturb Jubes. He smiled down at me and shifted his arm around me so I was cradled against him. It was comfortable, not like the tortuous session from before. He was warm and smelled nice, of cologne and washing powder and his own special scent. I didn't realise I'd fallen asleep until the elevator doors slid open and Jean stumbled out. We all jumped up with a start. "Jean! What's happened?" I was first to her, and I held her upper arms tightly. She looked exhausted and leant in to me.  
  
"The Professor will come and tell you. You should go and get some sleep."  
  
"Yeah, right!" Bobby exclaimed and came to stand with me.  
  
"Something bad happened, huh?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah." She nodded, and then wrestled out of my grasp back into the lift. "I need food, and water. I only came to tell you to go to bed and that he'd come and tell you." Then she shut the doors on us before we could protest any more. 


End file.
